


Not Worth It

by Anarhichas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Sexual Harassment, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarhichas/pseuds/Anarhichas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin comes to Mikasa's defence, but it doesn't really work like in the stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/3666.html?thread=6056018#cmt6056018
> 
> Thanks for reading, any concrit is welcome!

It is as Armin steps away from one woman standing over him, and backs straight into another, that he reflects that he should probably have kept his mouth shut.  
  
Then he thinks of Mikasa's white face and tight lips, useless anger in her eyes turning to well-hidden vulnerability, and doesn't regret it one bit.  
  
'It's Princess' white knight,' the woman in front of him says, her wide mouth split into a toothy grin. She has short brown hair in tight curls and a pale, soft looking, heart-shaped face. She leans down far enough that Armin can feel the breath of her words on his nose, and count the dark hairs of her eyelashes. 'Come back to defend her honour? Reckon she might fuck you good as thanks?'  
  
Armin doesn't say anything. He is horribly aware of their bodies very almost touching his own. His bones thrum with anticipation. He's been in this situation far too many times not to know what's about to happen.  
  
The woman behind him laughs, deep and mellow, a pleasant sound if not for the situation. She puts her hands on Armin's shoulders, gripping him hard with strong, long fingers. 'It's probably his only chance,' she says. 'Even if Princess wasn’t a right stuck up bitch. Would you fuck a loser like this one, Klara?'  
  
The hands brace his body as the woman in front punches him hard in the solar plexus, stopping his doubling over as the wind is knocked out of him.  
  
'Not if they paid me, not if I was the poorest damn whore in the city.' Armin can only just hear the words. His mouth hangs open uselessly as he shudders, trying and failing to breathe. He still manages to flinch when he feels lips brush the back of his neck, one of the hands trail down his back to grope his arse. The flinch is useless, still trapped as he is between them.  
  
'I don't know,' the woman behind him says. 'I bet he cries in bed. I think he's kinda cute.'  
  
Klara snorts. 'Knew you were fucking desperate, Hannah,' she says, and punches Armin in the face. His neck snaps to the side, pain smashing through his jaw and down his spine. Armin reaches up and blocks her next punch, but is only shoved forward into her, spun around and with his arms lowered, disorientated, is punched again by the woman behind, Hannah.  
  
Armin drops, curling, trying to roll to the side and escape. Instead he's hauled up by the back of his shirt collar, a dark hand fisted in his hair, forcing him to look up and meet Klara's eyes. He can feel blood start to trickle down from his nose.  
  
The first time he'd met Klara's eye was when she's finally looked his way, when he'd called her a pig and a pervert, a disgusting human being. He hadn't known where the words had come from, other than the anger, raw and helpless, at the way she'd cornered and laughed at Mikasa. Touched her hair, cupped her breast. Mikasa had scolded him for his words afterwards. It's not worth it, she'd said, antagonising the military police like that. I'm fine. The tense line of her mouth had told him that wasn't true.  
  
Not worth it. Armin closes his eyes and is careful not to think of the hand to hand combat training he's had. He couldn't ever beat them, he knows, but perhaps he can still escape. Not without breaking a wrist or taking out an eye. Not without being charged for assault of the military police. Armin thinks about the woman who'd escaped while he caught their attention a second time, and can't find it within himself to regret it. Still, he cries out as his arms are held behind his back and blows rain down on his stomach and chest, one after the other, agonising. He thinks he feels a snap but amid the flood of pain it's hard to tell.  
  
The hands let him go and Armin drops to the floor. His breath rasps and he coughs, blood bubbling from his nose, dripping into his mouth. A boot slams down on his face and Armin chokes on a scream as agony snaps through his skull.  
  
'Well, I take it back,' Hannah says, as she kicks him onto his front. 'I wouldn't fuck him either. That really is pathetic.'  
  
Hands pull his coat from him. There's the distinct jangle of coins and Armin manages to crawl to his hands and knees. He needs that money. He still has his errand to run. He's kicked over onto his side and, trembling from exhaustion, stays there. Every movement sends a fiery jab of pain through his ribs. When his boots are grabbed and torn from his legs, his gear unbuckled and shirt pulled away, Armin starts struggling again. Raw panic flares through his mind and he scrabbles at the paving stones, scraping the skin from his fingertips.  
  
'Relax, baby,' Klara says as she pins him bare-chested to the freezing ground, winter making the contact harsh. Hannah works his trousers off as she speaks. 'You got all messy, we're just going to clean you up.'  
  
The air is biting cold even as his injuries flare hot. Armin's breath comes in panicky gasps as he is hauled up by his hair and realises where he is being dragged to.  
  
There is a thin layer of ice on the river that splinters around him as he's tossed in. The cold is enough to take his breath away. Armin sinks for a long second then paddles upwards, spluttering and coughing. His whole chest burns like it's on fire. His head feels as if it could burst. He grasps the wall of the river bank with numb fingers, already swollen and clumsy, and pulling himself up feels like lifting half a ton. Chest resting on the top of the wall, pausing a moment to simply breathe, he looks up.  
  
Hannah stands there, tall and grinning. She kicks him in the face.  
  
As he falls back and sinks, just for a brief moment, Armin cannot get his body to move. His arms are stuck, his legs immobile. He thinks for an instant that he will drown for sure. The pain swells and swells and then he can move again, struggling upward. The air razes his throat. The ice snaps under his hands as he tries to lift himself up onto it, fragile as dried leaves.  
  
Paddling the several metres to the other side of the river feels like a small eternity. The ice stops him swimming directly, forcing him to grapple at it to break himself a path. The chill sucks at his strength. When he finally reaches the other side he is so tired he can barely see.  
  
Armin isn't sure how he climbs the wall, only that finally he is back on the hard street surface, hands and knees, sobbing out his exhaustion. He can't even think. He lies down, curls up, and knows distantly that he should be doing something but cannot remember what.  
  
He wakes suddenly. He thrashes, constrained, and only realises belatedly that it's blankets he's throwing off. His ribs ache sharply with every breath. His face feels swollen and tender. His feet and fingers are still numb.  
  
'Armin!' His name is thrown out loud and sharp. Eren kneels on the bed, eyes wild. Angry. 'Fuck, you're okay, we thought – when we found you–'  
  
He cuts himself off. 'Tell me who the hell did it and I'll fucking kill them. The fucking bastards.' Then Eren pauses, uncertainty drawing his eyes tight, like he doesn't really want to say the words. 'We got your clothes back. They didn't. You know.'  
  
Armin almost laughs. He tries to smile but it hurts his jaw and he stops with a wince. Out of everyone he'd no doubt been the least in danger of rape. 'No,' he says, cracked. 'I'm fine, nothing like that happened.'  
  
Eren's relief is visible. He sits back, looks Armin up and down, and his face darkens again. 'You're not fine,' he says shortly. 'And you still need to tell us who did it.'  
  
Eren is elbowed aside abruptly. Armin startles – she'd been so still he hadn't even realised Mikasa was there.  
  
'No,' she says, addressing Eren but watching Armin closely. 'He doesn't.'  
  
Her dark eyes search his face and Armin realises that she knows exactly what had happened. Then she smiles, a small and reproachful thing, and leaning forward she brushes her lips against his cheek. 'For future reference,' she says quietly, 'don't do it again.'  
  
Armin smiled back as best he can, and shakes his head, small, fragile movements. 'It was worth it,' he says.


End file.
